What's wrong?
by Disnerd3
Summary: From the perspective of Timon's Ma, on a day when Timon isn't feeling so well...nothing too serious, but all good moms worry a lot. No actual cussing, but if you're sensitive to words like "heck", it's not for you. DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Disney owns the characters.
1. Chapter 1

It was another beautiful morning in the jungle oasis my heroic son, Timon, had moved us into. The sun had risen just enough to make the sky a gorgeous purple and blue wonder. My darling Timmy was visiting for the week, and so I decided to go over to the hammock he'd made himself out of blooming vines, which was where he was sleeping that night. It was set up clear on the other side of the jungle from the grassbed I was sleeping in, but it was worth it to check in with my sweet little boy.  
On my way there, I saw my older brother, Max. He was yelling loudly at a stick, so loudly, in fact, that I was surprised nobody was getting ticked off at him and telling him to shut the heck up so they could sleep.  
"YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF WOOD! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CONTINUE WALKING FORWARD WITH YOU IN MY WAY!? WHAT IS _WRONG _WITH YOU, YOU STUPID - "  
"Uh, Max, it's a stick. You _could_ just pick it up and move it. Or, you could go around it.", I interrupted. He had probably ranted at it for quite awhile, knowing him. He'd been a _bit_ nicer since coming here, but there were still quite a few moments when he would be a complete grouch.  
"I can't pick it up, it's stuck! And it's too big to simply 'move around' it.", he retorted. I just shook my head and sighed. Sometimes, my big brother could be so ridiculous, it's a wonder nobody ever took him to the same place they took Iron Joe back when we lived in the ground. (In case you wanted an update, Joe is now just as sane as the rest of us. Which is to say that he isn't _entirely _sane, but at least he's not going into paranoid sobbing fits anymore. Maybe I should've picked a better example of how "easy" sentry duty would be, but, for the sake of putting the past behind us, I'll forgive myself for that.) I walked over, and I tried to pick up the stick. Max was right that it was stuck, but it wasn't really all that big, so I have no idea why he wouldn't just go the heck _around_ it.  
"Okay, you're correct that it's stuck in the dirt, and unable to be picked up. However, I think you can easily go around it, and I highly suggest you do. Unless _you'd_ rather sit here, wasting your precious energy shouting at it.", I said.  
He scowled and said, "Fine. I'll go _around_ the stick.". Then he started grumbling to himself as he walked around it.  
And so, I continued on my way, having solved Max's little stick problem, so that I could talk to my son. I walked for quite awhile, but when I finally got there, I was glad that I had. More glad than I would have been any other day. And very scared, as well.


	2. Chapter 2

There were several meerkats gathered around Timon's hammock. They all looked very concerned. Some were whispering, some were counting leafblankets, some were asking Timon if he was okay, to which he always told them he would be.

One was looking around, calling out, "Kujali! Kujali! Kujali, where are you?".

For awhile, I was too frantic to even speak. Once I had gotten a grip on myself (to the best degree that anyone can while their mind is going over all sorts of horrifying things that could be wrong with their offspring), I said, "I'm...right...here!". I sounded all shaky and scared, even to myself.

The one who'd been calling my name said, "Oh! Good. There you are. Are you alright? You seem pretty frightened."

"Well, YEAH! My son is obviously going through something really awful, I don't know what, but somebody outta give me an explanation, because I am _freaking out!_", I said, my voice filled with panic-edge.

"Calm down, take a deep breath, and then I will explain it to you. I can't say anything until you're calmer, though."

I took a deep breath, but I wasn't fully calm. Only slightly more calm. And I wouldn't be calm until I knew my son, my precious little boy, would be okay.

"Okay, I can tell that you're very concerned for your son.", the other meerkat said. I was still pretty panicked, so I really couldn't remember their name at the moment.

"Please. _Tell_ me. What. Is going. O_n_.", I said, gripping the other meerkat by the shoulders, and giving them a death glare. A nose-to-nose death glare.

"Okay, okay, chill! I'll tell you! Just, please, don't...look at me like that again!", they said. They were obviously pretty scared. I let go of their shoulders, took a step back, and softened my eyes. After taking a deep breath, the other meerkat said, "Timon's not feeling well. It's probably nothing too serious, but today, he woke up with a fever, a headache, nasal issues, a cough, a sore throat, and some pretty bad lethargy, too. He'll probably be better soon, but we're just making sure he's okay. Pumbaa's out getting him some water. We've been counting these leafblankets to make sure we have plenty, because the poor guy's been experiencing on-and-off chills all morning. We've been discussing how to take care of him for quite some time, too. Since we have you here, at least five of us can take a break, because, well, you're his mother, and you probably do better at caring for him than any of us ever would."

"Aw, of _course_ I'll take care of him. What kind of mother would I _be _if I didn't? My son is sick, and I need to take care of him until he feels better." After that, I added, "Do you think he's gonna be alright?"

"Yeah, he'll probably be alright. You know him, he bounces back relatively quickly. One of the things we all love about him.", the other meerkat said.

"Yes, it definitely is.", I said. But I still wasn't completely reassured. I was still rather concerned. Timon was sick...and I didn't really know when he'd get better.

The other meerkat must've picked up on that fact, because they said, "Hakuna Matata. He'll be okay."


	3. Chapter 3

[A/N: I'm sure many of you are wondering why I chose "Kujali" for the name for Timon's Ma. Well, "Nina", the Swahili word for "mother", is what another author chose (hey, by the way, if you're reading this, Maran Zelde, that was a wise choice! I gotta hand it to ya'! :D ), so, since I didn't wanna be a copycat, I decided to look up what some of her personality traits would be in Swahili, and, after quite a few options, I finally decided on the Swahili word for "caring", aka "Kujali".]

I then went up to everybody and said, "Alright! I appreciate your help, but I'd like it if I could just spend some time alone with my son for awhile. We probably have enough leafblankets, and if we don't, I can get more. I'm glad Pumbaa's out getting him a glass of water, too. That should help a lot. I'm glad you had somebody calling my name so I could come here and take care of my baby. I hear a lot of you are talking about how to care for him, but I think you guys can take a break for awhile. I appreciate all you've done, but I think he needs some alone time with his Mommy right now. Am I right, sweetie?"

Timon moaned pitifully as he raised up a weak, shaky thumbs-up. Then he coughed a couple times before lethargically placing his hand back at his side.

"Ohhhh_hhhhh_..._yeah. _I _know_, honey, I _know_.", I said, in a very sympathetic tone of voice. Poor thing, he'd probably been suffering miserably all day.

After much whispering, Swifty finally said, "Okay, Kujali. You're right. Call us over if you need us, okay?"

"Okay, I will! Thank you! You've all been really nice, but I really think maybe it'd be a good idea to just have me around for awhile. I'll keep ya' posted, though!", I said. I was grateful that they'd tried, but I kinda thought having a bunch of other meerkats crowding around him wasn't helping. Also, having everybody else catch whatever Timon had was not anybody's idea of a stellar day, and, since it's more possible for germs to multiply in crowded locations, havin' everybody separate was probably a win-win.


End file.
